


Fear of the Reaper

by WallisWritesStories



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallisWritesStories/pseuds/WallisWritesStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaoife had suffered plenty of loss in her life. To most people, she was over it. But that was far from the truth.<br/>With the death of her father still echoing in her, she flees Belfast with SAMBEL transfer Ciaran and heads for Charming, in hope of finding comfort in an old friend. However, nothing is ever so easy. With shock revelations and the constant threat of SAMCRO demise, Kaoife finds herself delving deeper and deeper into the world of the Sons. But what she is yet to learn is that once you stop running, things start to catch up with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Kicking off at the beginning of Season 6, sticking as closely to the original storyline as possible. However, slightly AU as Venus Van Damme will not be included in this story.  
> Anything you recognise does not belong to me, but to the genius, dark and twisted mind of Mr Kurt Sutter.

For the first time in her life, Kaoife McGee was currently travelling at an average speed of seven hundred miles an hour, faster than any bike could ever take her. In a large airplane cabin, fitted with three rows of three seats front to back, she was staring straight ahead - peaking over the seats in front of her at the blue velvet curtain separating her and her fellow passengers from the business class. By the emergency door ahead, Kaoife could see the snoozing head of her friend Ciaran, who was accompanying her on the trip. Watching the disgruntled passenger by Ciaran’s side, Kaoife laughed as the woman placed headphones over her ears to drown out his raucous snoring.  
As well as the loud grumbling emanating from Ciaran, the mind-numbing thunder of the jet engines outside had become unnoticeable to her, her ears being almost numb due to the altitude. Luckily, this made it easier to relax - even in the cramped space she had been allocated. After the cheap airplane meal provided, all Kaoife wanted to do was sleep and rid her mouth of the foul taste. This had lead to her currently working on her third glass of wine, in an attempt to fall asleep quicker. Flying was certainly an experience, but after the first three hours, the novelty had wore off and now she was bored, her legs were growing restless and her stomach was cramping. All she wanted was to sleep for the next six hours, catch the connection flight, then sleep for another five and a half hours on that. Swirling the smooth, cool plastic cup of wine in her hand, Kaoife stared at it before throwing it to the back of her throat. Sitting the cup back on her small fold down tray, she swallowed hard and reached for the blue, repeatedly dry cleaned blanket that rested on her knees. The warm yet rough material scratched lightly on the callouses on her palm, at the base of her middle fingers as she pulled it up towards her face, leaving it to fall just over her shoulders. The smell of cheap detergent lingered for a moment, before the pungency of the meals served to Kaoife and her neighbours filled the air again as Kaoife wrapped her fingers around the rosary round her neck, rolling some of the wooden beads in her fingers as she nodded off.

 

Culture-shock of New York seemed to tackle Kaoife as soon as the airplane ground to a halt on the tarmac of Newark. After looking up out of the small window, she saw the reflection of the sky in the grey windows of the airport, which towered high above the plane. Out of habit, she had looked to Ciaran to check if he too saw this monstrosity of a building. Ciaran, also seeing the giant building, had his dark angular eyebrows raised in disbelief.  
Once they were in the airport, they had two hours to kill before their next flight. Their plan had been to have a few drinks in the pub at their departure gate, but both had underestimated how draining the flight would be. Instead, they found themselves lying on the floor, beside an endless ocean of metal linked metal chairs. Using Kaoife’s hand luggage as a pillow, along with his own black zipped hoodie over his face to block out the light, Ciaran was trying to sleep away the two hours. Kaoife, on the other hand, was resting on Ciaran’s small rucksack, pretending to read her book - Dubliners, James Joyce - while she watched other travellers flitting around the place; some running, some walking, some looking very stressed as they stood still, staring up at all the signs. Every so often she would call quietly to Ciaran, checking if he was still awake. When he replied, he would ask what she was doing - to which she would reply “People-watching.” However, in reality she was studying them, as along with culture shock Kaoife realised that she had no idea how to act in America. If she was to stay here for any length of time, she better start adjusting as soon as possible. Terrified, she pretended to turn pages of her book, still staring at those around her.  
After a while, Kaoife had grown anxious and uncomfortable, thanks to the hard, cold floor of the airport. Blaming it on tiredness and first-flyer’s nerves, Kaoife lied to Ciaran when he noticed she was uneasy. After this he had suggested they visit the small airport chapel, situated not far from their gate and across from a pub.  
In the chapel, the smell of wax and fresh wood varnish almost choked Ciaran as he sat amongst the other two travellers in the room while Kaoife knelt in front of the votive, praying quietly over a candle. The pillow beneath her knees was worn and thin, the ground obvious below her. With her eyes closed, she focused on her prayer - one of safety and prosperity - as she slowly turned the vigil light between her fingertips. Once finished, she crossed her chest and sat the candle in the votive, before returning to the pew Ciaran was pretending to pray on. He sat with his eyes shut and head back, hands clasped on his lap as he tried to sleep, his heavy, tired breaths audible to everyone in the room. Kaoife reminded him quietly about getting a drink before the next flight, hoping to wake him up a bit, while she traced the imprinted golden font on the front of the bible now in her hands. Opening his eyes and leaning forward he agreed, stretching his back with a slight crack as he yawned, then standing to leave.  
In the American sports bar, they had plenty of drinks, topping up their earlier intake. All around them there was memorabilia from all kinds of sports, much of which Kaoife and Ciaran had no clue about. Neon bar signs light up the walls and televisions hung by the windows, showing three different sports. In a judging ignorance, Kaoife ordered more drinks while they sat at the bar, with nerves slowly climbing their insides. As the time approached to board their flight, they queued silently, alcohol and tiredness causing Kaoife’s eyes to sting as she grasped her passport and boarding pass.

 

  
After sixteen hours and eleven minutes of travelling, Kaoife and Ciaran finally found themselves on the last leg of their journey. Overwrought and a bit hungover, they remained silent on their shuttle bus, the last remaining of seven passengers who had boarded at Stockton Metropolitan Airport. Staring out at the dark American countryside, Kaoife mourned the lack of greenery but took in the flash of sand coloured dry grass and occasional plant that she would see in the burst of white from the headlights. A chill ran over her, the air-con blowing cool air around the car, forcing her to pull her small hand-luggage rucksack closer to her chest for a bit more warmth. Before long, gas stations that crept up in the darkness became more frequent and every so often there was a diner or a shop, a construction site or a truck stop. Soon, a small pool of light was visible in the distance, the glow reaching into the sky. The shuttle approached a wooden sign, lit up by a small but powerful light angled in front of it. Elbowing Ciaran for his attention, Kaoife’s eyes read and reread the words, which echoed in her head - “Welcome to Charming - Population: 14, 679.”  
“Fourteen thousand, six hundred and eighty one, now.” said Ciaran with an exhausted sigh, his Dublin accent thick in his tired voice.  
“Crazy,” Kaoife replied. “Seventeen hours ago we were leaving Belfast, now we live in Charming.” She added, giving an unbelieving laugh.  
“Do you even know what the house looks like?” Ciaran asked her.  
“Roughly.” She answered.  
“Do you even have furniture? Where will you sleep? Where will I sleep?” He continued.  
“Jesus Christ,” Kaoife sighed. “It’s already furnished, everything is taken care of.” She added. “All we need to do is go shopping tomorrow for essentials and unpack. There isn’t much decorating to be done, maybe a paint job at most. I might get new furniture once the bikes arrive.”  
“What else is being shipped?”  
“Just the bikes. Unless you shipped anything?” She asked.  
“No.” He shook his head and shrugged as the shuttle travelled through the quiet, sleeping town.  
“I feel like we should have brought more. Most people who immigrate take more stuff.”  
“What would we have brought? The cash register from Ashby’s? We didn’t exactly have all that much to bring.” Ciaran joked.  
“I suppose.” Kaoife agreed with a laugh, while they approached a small residential area. The shuttle slowed as it travelled through the streets, each passing house almost identical to the last.  
“So, what one is it?” asked Ciaran. Looking at each one they passed. , Kaoife shook her head.  
“ I have no idea.”  
“Well, that’s great to hear.” He replied.  
“This is you just in here, guys.” The driver, a small, white haired man, called from the front as he pulled into the right, stopped at the driveway of a house which sat in darkness, a hedge growing from round the side of it. For a moment, they sat in silence and stared at it, both anticipation and nerves engulfing them. “Do you need a hand with luggage?” The old man called.  
“No,” Kaoife replied, still staring at the house. “We’ll be fine.” She finished, taking a deep breath and following Ciaran’s moves to pick up their cases and bags.

 

  
A while later, both Kaoife and Ciaran were still awake, sitting on the couch in the open plan living room and kitchenette. Neither could sleep thanks to the copious hours spent sleeping throughout the day, along with jetlag. Having found a blanket in the airing cupboard, Kaoife wrapped it around her shoulders and silently invited Ciaran to follow her outside to the white, chipped-paint porch. On her way out, Kaoife grabbed her cigarettes, which she had purchased in the duty free in the airport. In the pleasantly cool, American night air, the sat on the wooden porch steps, Kaoife holding her cigarette packet out to Ciaran in offering as she lit her own. Once he had taken one, she handed him her lighter and took a long drag, looking out onto the street.  
“Wonder what our neighbours are like.” She said, exhaling a large cloud of smoke and watching it curl up into the air.  
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Ciaran replied, looking at a car parked across the street. There was a moment of silence, filled only by the funnels of smoke leaving them. “Are you excited to see him?” Ciaran asked. Sighing, Kaoife replied, looking down at her cigarette as she rolled it between her fingers.  
“Yeah,” She smiled, taking another drag. “I am. How are you feeling?” To this, Ciaran gave a laugh.  
“Scale of one to a hundred? Somewhere in the low nineties.”  
“That’s not too bad.”  
“Nah.” He said, starting to make smoke rings.  
“Seriously,” Kaoife insisted. “You good?”  
“I’m fine - excited even.” He persisted. “Do we have a landline?”  
“Yeah, it’s on the wall by the kitchen.”  
“I’ve got to phone a certain number in the morning, let them know I arrived.”  
“Didn’t you pick up a pre-pay when we left the airport?”  
“I forgot.”  
“Of course you did.” Kaoife sighed, crushing out the cigarette and blowing out one last billowing funnel of smoke. “We’ll buy one tomorrow, then you can call.”  
“Right.” Ciaran sighed heavily. “We should probably at least try to sleep.”  
“You’re right.” Kaoife said, looking at her watch. “It’s almost two in the morning.”  
“Fantastic.” Ciaran groaned as he walked into the living room. “You can take the bed tonight, I’ll crash on the couch.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah, I’ll have a look at beds when we go out tomorrow.” He explained. “Give me your blanket.”  
“Is there a please in there somewhere?” She asked, removing the blanket from her shoulders but holding onto it firmly.  
“Please, will you give me the fucking blanket?”  
“Well, that’s a bit better I suppose.” She sighed, handing the blanket over to him. “Goodnight.” She added, continuing past the couch and down the hall, turning into her bedroom, hearing a muffled grumble of “Goodnight” from the couch.

 

  
Equipped with rucksacks and brown paper bags full to the top, Kaoife and Ciaran struggled up the driveway after paying the taxi fare - Ciaran complaining about the tip - and desperately tried not to drop anything. Shopping for the basic essentials had just taken over an hour. However, so did shopping for a bed for Ciaran, as did shopping for everything else that Kaoife spotted for the house.  
With a grunt, Ciaran kicked the front door shut and walked over to the small circular table at the edge of the kitchenette and sat down the three bags in his arms. Kaoife had rested her bags on the kitchen counter and was now removing her overflowing rucksack before emptying it.  
“What bag are the pre-pays in?” Ciaran asked, beginning to rummage through one of them.  
“You’re not phoning yet,” Kaoife said sternly, unpacking tins of food onto the worktop. “We’re sorting all this out first. Then you can phone.”  
“You know, you’re not my mam.”  
“How would you know?” Kaoife laughed, continuing to unpack. Ciaran raised his brow and nodded.  
“Touché.”

 

  
Sitting on the old, wobbly chair at the kitchen table, Kaoife sat in silence as she watched Ciaran stare at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Beeping from the keypad of the pre-pay in his other hand was the only noise in the room, followed by the rolling up of the piece of paper.  
“Here we go.” Ciaran sighed, pressing the call button. Watching on, Kaoife took a long drag of her cigarette, trying to work out the feeling in her gut. “Uh, hi there. It’s Ciaran - er, Carmichael here. Y’know, the SAMBEL transfer?” There was a moment’s pause. Kaoife watched on, awash with anxiety. “Yeah, yeah. Uh-huh, aye.” Ciaran said with a small chuckle. “Right, thanks a lot. See ya.” He finished, closing the pre-pay and taking a great breath, exhaling slowly. “Holy shit.” He laughed, a smile on his face.  
“Well? What did they say?” Kaoife asked, perched on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped, tapping her nails against each other. Straightening his back, Ciaran moved back to recline slightly on the couch before answering.  
“I’ve to go to the clubhouse tomorrow afternoon, the guys said someone’ll be there to sort me out.” He explained, tucking the pre-pay into his jacket pocket.  
“Who did you speak to?” Kaoife asked in excitement, just managing to present herself calmly.  
“Fuck if I know.” Ciaran laughed. “Could have been anyone.”  
“But what did he sound like?”  
“It wasn’t him, Kaoif’. I think I would have noticed if it was.” He said, eyebrows low as he rolled his eyes at her. “Anyway, that guy sounded pretty young. Were there any young patches in Belfast with ‘em?”  
“Not that I know. There was one young guy, the one I said had tribal head tattoos. Can’t remember his name.” She said with a nonchalant wave.  
“Here,” Ciaran laughed. “It’s a good thing those bikes are due to land.”  
“Why?” Kaoife asked, laughing at Ciaran as he struggled to compose himself.  
“Could you imagine me, fuckin’ six foot seven, stepping out of a fuckin’ taxi to meet the club?” He laughed, leaning his head back and rubbing his eyes.  
“Aye, I’m sure that’d be a cracking first impression.” Kaoife replied, shaking her head slightly. “Speaking of,” She added, waiting for Ciaran to stop giggling. “The bikes should dock around lunchtime or just before, we’ll get a taxi to the docks and drive straight to the garage.”  
“I’ll call in the morning and let them know, just in case we’re late.” Ciaran nodded. “You still got the map we picked up at the shop?”  
“It’s in my bag, we can have a look at it after dinner.” Kaoife said, beginning to yawn.  
“What you making?”  
“I’m making a phone call, that’s what I’m making.” She laughed, looking around her now for her new mobile.  
“You’re getting take away? After all the shopping we just did?” Ciaran moaned.  
“Sorry, were you planning on cooking?” She asked.  
“Well, no…”  
“Exactly.” Kaoife said pointedly.  
“I’m going for a smoke.” He sighed, clapping his hands on his knees and getting to his feet, grabbing his cigarettes from the table in front of Kaoife, who had her new mobile at her ear, calling the number she got from the back of the map they picked up at the supermarket earlier that day for Lin’s Chinese. A woman answered and Kaoife recited the order to her, rolling a ball of receipts around the table then picking up her cigarette packet, opening and closing it with her index finger as she waited for the woman to confirm her order.  
When she was done, Kaoife hung up and got to her feet, cigarettes in hand and walked out the open front door, from which Ciaran could be seen smoking on the porch, leaning against the wooden support beam that ran down from the roof.

 

  
In the morning, once again the bright morning sun streamed through Kaoife’s window. Today, however, she lay in a comfortable lull between consciousness and sleep, enveloped between her new, cheap-satin sheets. This was until her bedroom door flew open and met the wall with a loud bang, causing her to jump in fright and scramble into a sitting position. Now, she stared at Ciaran with fire in her veins, furious at the wake up call she never asked for. Until he began to speak.  
“The bikes docked early.” He said with a beaming smile on his face. “The taxi’s on it’s way, get up, get dressed, get your arse in gear.”  
“I’m so conflicted.” Kaoife croaked. “I want to kill you,” She started, throwing off her duvet and getting to her feet. “But I want to get my bike as quick as I can.”  
“And I’d quite enjoy that too, so move it.” Ciaran said, throwing open her wardrobe, pulling out a random selection of clothes and tossing them in her direction.  
“Really?” She moaned, picking them up from the ground as Ciaran swept out of the room.  
“Hurry up!” He cried, closing the door behind him. Yawning deeply, followed by a stretch, Kaoife looked out the window through her half-open eyes, looking at the small, slightly overgrown garden behind the house. As she dressed, she kept staring out, seeing the sun hit off of the long, dewy grass, the way it would in the frosty mornings back in Belfast, as well as every time the rain fell. As she sat down to zip her boots, Kaoife laughed, as this was the longest she had gone without seeing rain for as long as she could remember. Now on her feet, she grabbed her phones from the bedside table and walked out into the living room, then into the kitchen where Ciaran was quickly annihilating some toast, handing a piece to Kaoife as she took a can of energy juice from the fridge.  
“Do we have time for a smoke before we leave?” She asked.  
“Wouldn’t think so.” Ciaran mumbled over another slice of toast.  
“Wonderful.” Kaoife groaned, throwing back as much of the energy juice as she could, before the taxi pulled up outside. “Come on,” She said after an audible gulp. “Let’s go.”  
“Hold on,” Ciaran said hurriedly, moving to grab for something that rested over the back of the kitchen chair. As he unfolded it, Kaoife recognised the kutte immediately.  
“You still allowed to wear that?” She asked.  
“Aye, I’ve cut off the Belfast rocker and my flash.” He explained. “No point in getting a new kutte entirely, that’s what Barkwill said.”  
“Well, he’ll be right then.” She said, gesturing to Ciaran to grab his rucksack, which had their helmets secured safely inside, as she lead the way out of the front door, into the ever-brightening sun.  
On their journey to the docks, Ciaran chatted happily away to the driver, who didn’t seem to appreciate his excited conversation. Meanwhile, Kaoife watched avidly out the dusty window at the streets and shops that passed, trying to pinpoint places as she recognised them. There was the old-style sweet shop - Scoops, the florist, some diners dotted around and a few empty shop fronts, looking dark and dusty at the side of the road.

 

  
Almost rattling in anticipation, they watched on as the crewman pulled open the large, metal container door. Flakes of rust chipped off as it scraped across the cement with a loud, metallic creak.  
“It’s like being on an old game show.” Ciaran said, smile wide on his face.  
“Just with much better prizes.” Kaoife added, raring to retrieve her bike.  
“If you guys could ride ‘em up to the office so I can sign ‘em out - that’d be great.” called the crewman from behind them, as they entered into the large container, feet tapping in a small puddle of seawater on the ground with the smell of salt and rust filling their noses.  
“We’ll bring them up soon.” Ciaran called, removing the cover from what he knew was his own bike, due to it being larger than Kaoife’s.  
“Aye, need to check they’re all right to ride first.” Kaoife agreed. “Especially with all the seawater in here.” She added, pulling the cover from her own bike, smiling at it. This seemed to worry the crewman slightly, as he laughed awkwardly.  
“Let us have a look then we’ll head up to the office, all right Chief?” Ciaran said, telling him more so than asking.  
“Sure. I’ll meet you up there.” He said, nodding to them both then leaving them, walking behind some more freight and disappearing. Kaoife stroked the handlebar of her bike, the cool metal nipping her fingertips as she admired the familiar, black sheen of the tank, the soft leather seat with it’s pleated seam.  
“It’s like - it’s like looking at God.” said Ciaran. “Sorry, God. Didn’t mean it.” He added, crossing his chest.  
“Aye, right.” Kaoife smirked, rolling the rain cover up and tucking it under her arm. “I can hardly see in here.” She added, swinging her leg over the bike slowly before turning back slightly and tucking the bike cover into her saddle bag. “Needs a good clean.” She added, wiping a thin layer of grime from her handlebar before swinging it upright and kicking up the stand. Ciaran gave a grunt of agreement as she slowly walked the bike out of the container.  
With both bikes finally outside the container, Kaoife and Ciaran had almost finished looking over the bikes, everything seeming to be in good condition. Handing Ciaran’s helmet to him, Kaoife looked at the frayed thread sticking out of his kutte.  
“Who do you think they picked as the new SA now that you’ve transferred?”  
“The flash went to Geezer. Made sure of it.” He answered, accepting his helmet.  
“He’ll be good.” Kaoife agreed, letting her hair down to allow her helmet to sit comfortably on her head, then clipping it under her chin.  
“Do you reckon there’s a speed limit in here?” Ciaran asked, also putting on his helmet and sitting on his bike.  
“Five miles an hour.” Kaoife sighed. “Checked when we arrived. No racing today, I’m afraid.” She added, to which Ciaran smirked, before moving to start his bike; as did Kaoife. There was a splutter, followed by a low growl, followed then by a series of loud raucous revving.  
“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Ciaran called.  
“We’re a bit early, will anyone be there?” She called over the engines.  
“Should be, the young guy that phoned said he was heading down from SAMDino with another brother but they’d be back around now.” He explained.  
“Let’s not keep them waiting, then.” said Kaoife, who then moved away from the still-open container and rode up past more and more crates, a smile on her face as the wind whipped gently at her hair, the noise of their engines echoing through the dockyard, rivalled by the loud horn of a distant ship.

 

The familiar sting of hair whipping her face - partnered with the rumbling vibrations of the bike that ran through her bones, made Kaoife smile as she and Ciaran rode side by side down the highway. A few times they had come close to making the dreaded mistake of driving on the wrong side of the road, taking a few slow minutes to grow accustomed to the American roads.  
Although, reaching over seventy miles an hour, with the wind roaring in her ears, Kaoife noticed an almost rhythmic noise of air being released. With the quickest of glances down, she saw nothing out the ordinary, yet the noise continued. Looking to Ciaran, she tried for his attention, sounding the horn and signalling with her hand. Turning his head, he received her signal and indicated, slowing the bike to pull in by the side of the road. Kaoife followed, pulling up beside him on the sand coloured, gravel roadside. She cut the engine and removed her helmet, hanging it on the handlebar.  
“Got a weird sound going on. I need to have a look.” She said to Ciaran, who was currently removing his own helmet.  
“Right, I’ll listen, you rev.” He said, getting off his bike and to his feet, before walking over and bending his knees, leaning on Kaoife’s bike for balance.  
“You’re listening for air.” She advised.  
“Right, start her up.” With that, Kaoife started the engine again, revving a few times.  
“I’m going to go a few yards, you’ll hear it better.” She said, slowly releasing the clutch. As she did, the rhythmic air could be heard coming from the bike, quiet but persistent.  
“Aye, I hear it.” He confirmed, as Kaoife stopped.  
“I reckon it’s a valve or something.” She suggested, cutting the engine again. “I’ve lost some power, too.”  
“Could be the muffler.” Ciaran said, looking around the bike once more. “I’m sure someone’ll sort it for you at TM.”  
“I could do it myself if I had the tools.” She sighed, worried about the rest of the ride.  
“I know you could, but you don’t.” He replied, walking back to his own bike and grabbing his helmet.  
“Don’t get snippy.” She warned. Sighing, Ciaran mounted his bike.  
“Sorry, as you can guess, I’m a bit on edge.”  
“Understandable.” Kaoife replied, clipping her helmet. “But don’t get snippy.” She reiterated, starting up one more time.  
Pulling out onto the road, Kaoife revelled in the crunch of the sandy dirt roadside, which was then drowned out by the sound of Ciaran’s bike pulling away, small clouds of dust behind his rear wheel. Following suit, she rode along, pulling up by Ciaran’s side and looked to what could only be described as a small plain to her left. For miles, little tufts of yellowing grass decorated the ground, dark, reddish mountains noticeable on the horizon. The sun was warm on her thin jacket, the fake, black leather absorbing the heat. Her only solace in the intense heat being the cool wind whipping her hair around behind her.

 

“Is that it?” Kaoife called out over the engines as the progressed down the small street, an assortment of cars and motorbikes fringing the pavements. Slowing to look at Ciaran, Kaoife saw the slight fear in his eyes, as he slowed beside her.  
“Looks like it.” He said, voice almost wavering.  
“Deep breaths.” She advised, giving him a comforting smile. “Come on, one small step for Ciaran, one giant step for - someone else.” She laughed with a shrug, joking to try and calm her friend. With that, the pair made their way through the gates, looking around as they entered. To their left was a large grey building, ahead of them, the garage. However, neither paid attention to the buildings. Instead, they searched around for someone wearing a reaper as they pulled up by, what Kaoife assumed, was the clubhouse.  
Pulling off her helmet and running her hand over her hair, Kaoife looked around again. A blue door, next to the garage, swung open with some force. A smile ran across Kaoife’s face, instantly recognising the woman, perfectly tended black hair framing her face with the blond highlights soft by her complexion.  
“Jesus Christ,” Kaoife said with a smile, leaving her bike and resting her helmet on the seat. “Ci’, get up.” She said, urgently. Following suit, Ciaran looked at her, confused at the reaction she gave.  
“Who is it?” He whispered to her as he turned away to sit his helmet on the bike. By this time, the woman had advanced towards Kaoife, a smile of recognition soft on her aged but attractive face as she approached them.  
“Gemma,” Kaoife said happily, outstretching her arms to embrace the woman. “It’s good to see you.”  
“It’s good to see you, too, Sweetheart. Bit of a surprise, but good.” She smiled, sorting a strand of Kaoife’s, currently wind-battered, hair. “You the transfer?” Gemma asked, now looking to Ciaran as Kaoife stepped back from her.  
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded courteously. “Ciaran - Carmichael.” He said, adding the last word quickly.  
“Gemma’s fine, Juice and Rat are in the clubhouse.” She replied pointedly, regarding the grey building they had passed on their way in.  
“Right, thanks ma-” Ciaran began, then quickly corrected himself. “Gemma.” He smiled.  
“Gem’,” Kaoife said, bringing her hands together and tapping her nails on top of each other. Looking down at her, Gemma smiled warmly, as Ciaran watched nervously. “Is Filip here?” She asked, excitement starting to build, down inside her.  
“He’s with the guys.” She almost sighed. “Club shit.”  
“Ah, I see. That’s fine, will they be back soon?”  
“I don’t know, darlin’. Does he know you’re here?” Gemma asked, crossing her arms.  
“It’s a surprise.” She replied, to which Ciaran gave an interrupting laugh.  
“Sorry.” He said, excusing himself slightly.  
“Hey,” Gemma started. “How come I never met you in Belfast?” She asked him, looking up as he towered over both of them.  
“I was - I was in prison, actually.” He answered, pursing his lips into a thin line, nervously.  
“Right. Well, like I said, Juice and Rat are inside, let’s go.” Gemma said, holding her hand out in the direction of the clubhouse. Walking ahead, Ciaran stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans.  
“What are you doing here, Sweetheart?” Gemma asked Kaoife solemnly, putting an arm around her shoulders as they walked. Sighing and relaxing in the comfort of the half-embrace, Kaoife answered.  
“Just - just needed a change, Gem’.”  
“Well, it’s no picnic here these days. We got our own shit going on.”  
“I just want to see Fil’.” Kaoife added, almost desperately. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.” Fighting her hardest not to get upset, she took Gemma’s hand, which rested off of her shoulder. “And of course, I missed you too much.” Kaoife joked.  
“Yeah, yeah. Get in there.” Gemma said, amused as she removed her arm from Kaoife’s shoulders and ushered her into the clubhouse, after Ciaran.  
Stepping into the clubhouse, it took Kaoife’s eyes a moment to adjust. Panelled with dark wood and black paint, it was dark but well lit will low hanging lights positioned over the pool table and an assortment of tables and chairs near the bar. The bar itself was adorned with an assortment of ales and hard liquors, a few bottles of vodka dotted around the shelves. There was a thick smell of cigarettes and what Kaoife could swear was cigars, making her nose sting slightly.  
“Rat! Juice!” Gemma called, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps from a corridor by the bar, just heard over the sound of the heavy music playing behind the pool table. In a few seconds, two men, close to Ciaran’s age, stood by the bar wearing kuttes. One Kaoife recognized from the week SAMCRO travelled to Belfast a few years ago, during the hassle with Jimmy O’. His hair was the same, short Mohawk down the middle of his head, tribal tattoos at either side of it. Juice was his name., his face was bruised and a little bloody, freshly beaten. The other Kaoife didn’t recognise. With messy hair and skinny features, almost hidden by a scruffy goatee, he stood just taller than Juice.  
“What’s up, Gem?” Juice asked, shoulders drooped slightly as he awaited a reply.  
“SAMBEL transfer.” She said bluntly, gesturing to Ciaran, who stood with his hands in his kutte pockets and standing straight, trying to appear nonplussed.  
“All right,” Juice nodded to Gemma, then looked to Ciaran. “What’s your name?”  
“Ciaran.” He piped up, removing one hand from his pocket and stepping forward to shake Juice’s hand. Returning the gesture, Juice smiled.  
“Nice to meet you, Brother. I’m Juice, this is Ratboy.” He explained, gesturing to the other boy, who Ciaran now shook hands with.  
“I spoke to you on the phone.” Ciaran reminded Ratboy.  
“Yeah.” Rat nodded. “Jax and the guys won’t be back for a while, feel free to grab a beer or whatever.” He added.  
“Right, cheers Brother.” Ciaran agreed, stepping back and moving to the bar beside him as Rat and Juice made to walk away. Seeing an opportunity, Kaoife jumped forward slightly.  
“Hi, I’m Kaoife, don’t know if you’ll remember me, Juice.” She said, stepping in front of Gemma slightly. A spark of recognition lit on Juice’s face.  
“Kaoife, yeah I remember you.” He smiled. “What’re you doing out here? This you’re old man?” He asked, pointing to Ciaran. To this, Kaoife could only laugh.  
“No, just friends.” She said. “I was wondering if there’s anyone that can take a look at my bike?” She asked.  
“What’s up with it?” Rat asked.  
“I think there’s something wrong with one of the valves. Muffler’s loose, too.” Kaoife explained.  
“I’ll come have a look.” Rat offered, moving away from Juice and towards Kaoife.  
“Thanks.” She said, gratefully, now turning to make her way outside again. “It shouldn’t take long.” She added, making her way along the small black threshold, taking in the words “Fear the Reaper” above the door. With Kaoife a few paces ahead, she and Ratboy stepped out into the sunlight.  
For a while, Kaoife and Rat conversed about the bike, Kaoife explaining how she bought it with some inheritance from her dad and money from selling her old bike. The Indian, however, now resided in the garage, where Kaoife stood by as Rat conversed with one of the men working in there, explaining to him what needed done to the bike. As Kaoife finished a cigarette, crushing it out in the small glass ashtray on the work bench, she looked at Rat.  
“Do you know when the guys will be back?” She asked as she expelled a cloud of smoke, trying to appear casual. Rat shrugged and shook his head.  
“No idea, sorry.” He said. At that moment, Ciaran’s voice was heard, calling over the lot to Kaoife. Her head whipped round to see him beckoning her back towards the clubhouse. Her stomach dropped slightly at the urgency in his voice, her first thoughts being of Filip. With a worried glance to Rat who followed her as she started towards the clubhouse, her hair bouncing slightly behind her as she increased her pace.  
Inside, she looked over the bar to see Gemma standing hunched as she supported a smaller blonde girl by the waist. She was badly bruised and cut all over.  
“What’s happened?” Kaoife asked, looking at Ciaran, who now presided by on a stool by the girls. Juice, who was holding a first aid kit behind the bar, looked at her desperately.  
“Lyla needs help, Ciaran said you’re a nurse.” He explained, sitting the first aid kit on the bar top. Kaoife inwardly cursed Ciaran as she nodded and stepped to the bar, taking the first aid kit.  
“Tara already stitched me up and I’ve got a few bandages on, but I think my stitches have burst.” The blonde girl, Lyla, explained. Kaoife nodded, walking towards Gemma and Lyla.  
“Alright, let’s get you somewhere private. I’m assuming there’s a room we can go to?” Kaoife asked Gemma, who almost smirked.  
“I’m sure we’ll find one.”

 

  
In a room of the clubhouse, Kaoife - sat needle in hand, tending to the burst stitches on Lyla’s leg. Her injuries were so deep and violent, Kaoife couldn’t imagine the pain she was in. Lyla would wince every so often, even though Kaoife had used a local anaesthetic before stitching. It had been left by Jax’s wife, Tara, who was a doctor at the local hospital - which Juice informed Kaoife of when she noticed the medical tools left in the room.  
“Sorry to ask,” Kaoife began furtively. “But, what happened?” She looked up to Lyla’s face, bruised and swollen. “You - don’t have to answer.” She added quietly, as an afterthought. There was a heavy silence, before Lyla’s shaking voice started.  
“I - I’m a porn star.” She began, Kaoife fighting the instinct of raising her eyebrows in shock. “I was offered some work, some shady, low budget stuff, but I needed money.” Lyla sighed, wincing as Kaoife finished the stitches. She felt a wash of sympathy, with a pain in her gut. “It was torture porn.” She said, with a small, choked laugh.  
“Shit,” Kaoife breathed, horror evident on her face. “I’m sorry.” The two sat in silence as Kaoife wiped blood from her hands, picking at the fraying edges of the cloth.  
“Don’t be.” She sighed, wiping her eyes delicately, followed by another short silence. “So, the big guy - he your old man?” She asked, looking down at Kaoife as she wiped the smudged blood from Lyla’s legs.  
“No,” Kaoife laughed quietly.  
“You guys came from Belfast?”  
“Yeah, I’m originally from Glasgow, he’s from Dublin.” Kaoife replied, patting a dry cloth over Lyla’s legs. “Actually,” She added, thinking hard for a moment. “I’m good friends with his dad.” She finished, inwardly laughing.  
“Yeah? Who’s his dad?” Lyla asked, confused.  
“That’s another story.” Kaoife said, airily. “We’re all done here.” Kaoife smiled, regarding Lyla’s legs.  
“Really?” Lyla asked, surprised as she looked down at her fresh stitches. “Thanks.” She smiled weakly. “Sorry for this.” She said quietly after. Shaking her head, Kaoife rolled her eyes.  
“Don’t worry about it.” She said happily. “If you need me I’ll be at the bar. Or I can sit here with you, if you’d prefer company.” Kaoife offered, aware that the girl would be feeling on edge.  
“It’s fine, thanks.” She declined, adjusting herself on the bed where she rested, wincing quietly. “I’m just going to get some rest.”  
“Right, ‘course. I’ll come check on you in an hour or so.” She said kindly, getting to her feet from the chair which had been positioned beside the bed.  
“Thanks,-” Lyla trailed off, unsure of to whom she was speaking.  
“Oh, right - Kaoife.” She laughed, forgetting that she hadn’t properly introduced herself.  
“Thanks, Kaoife.” Lyla finished with a tired, weak smile. With that, Kaoife quietly made her way out of the room, walking down the corridor to the bar. Passing the old blue Model K on display in the corridor, she admired it for a moment, before turning back into the bar.  
Walking out of the hallway, Kaoife noticed another person at the bar, that of an older man with a tired face but large, dark eyes. He spoke quietly with Gemma, both conversing in hushed tones, away from Ciaran, Juice and Ratboy, who resided now by the pool table. The caustic break, beginning the game, rang through the clubhouse, as both Rat and Ciaran watched carefully, following the diffusion of the balls in hope. Kaoife watched on as Rat groaned, standing back and allowing Ciaran to play. As the switched positions, Kaoife noticed Juice, sitting on a couch behind the pool table, watching blankly with a melancholy stare. Walking over, she moved carefully around the table so as to not interrupt the game, taking a seat on the couch with Juice, leaving a comfortable distance between them.  
“Hey,” She began, trying to catch his attention. As he looked up, he plastered a smile on his face and looked over to her.  
“Hey.” He now beamed, sitting up straight and adjusting his kutte.  
“So, how have you been?” Kaoife asked, almost laughing. “Been a while.” She added, trying not to stare at his beaten face.  
“Y’know, ramblin’ on down the road.” He smiled, but Kaoife noticed the sadness behind it.  
“Must be some road, was there an accident?” She joked, regarding his bruises. To this, Juice laughed honestly, shaking his head.  
“Just a scuffle.” He said airily.  
“How does the other guy look?” Kaoife asked, tucking her legs beneath her and making herself comfortable.  
“He’ll live.” Juice joked, as the sadness returned to his eyes. Noticing this, Kaoife decided not to press on it, instead now watching Rat and Ciaran’s game of pool.

 

  
Sitting on a bench outside, under the protruding roof of the clubhouse, Kaoife looked up at the orange sky, staring at the smooth sheeted clouds above the garage. It was late but still warm, Kaoife was fascinated by the thought of not having to wear multiple layers so late at night. The air was cool against her pale skin as she smoked a joint, pre-rolled by Juice, reflecting on her journey. She tried and tried to understand fully that this was her home now, but failed. After only two days in the states, she had fully moved into her new house, administer her skills as a nurse to help a porn star and found someone to fix her bike. Looking over to the garage, she saw it, red paint just visible in the growing darkness. Still trying to fathom it all, she shook her head. Taking a long drag of the joint, she closed her eyes. Then, hearing footsteps behind her, she opened them quickly and turned, seeing Lyla in the doorway of the clubhouse.  
“Hey, you okay?” Kaoife asked her, moving from the benchtop to the seat, making a space for Lyla.  
“Just needed some fresh air.” She smiled weakly. “Can I-?” She asked, pointing to the joint in Kaoife’s hand.  
“Oh, shit - sure.” She said, handing it to her quickly, feeling guilty for not offering first.  
“Thanks.” Lyla said, taking a seat by Kaoife’s side. “You seem - divided.” She added, exhaling a large, billowing cloud. Kaoife nodded slowly.  
“I guess I am.”  
“Homesick?”  
“Not sure if I’d call it that.” She said. “Just, kind of daunting. Not being there.”  
“Hmm.” Sitting quietly, the girls stared across the lot, Lyla passing the joint back to Kaoife. Looking at the airstream over by the tall fence, Kaoife pointed at it.  
“The old guy,” She started. “What’s his name again?”  
“Unser.” said Lyla. “He was the Chief of Police in Charming for years.”  
“You’re kidding?” Kaoife laughed. “The Chief of Police living in the lot of an outlaw MC’s garage?”  
“From what I know, he was a good friend of the club during his time.”  
“On the take?” Kaoife asked.  
“Not so much, but they helped each other out. He and Gem’ have been friends since they were kids.”  
“I see.” Kaoife nodded.  
“He’s a great guy. Harmless, and he’ll do whatever he can for anyone.”  
“That’s nice.” Kaoife said, half-smiling. Once again they were left in silence, but Kaoife’s wasn’t bothered. She sat comfortably on the bench, relaxed in the cool, heavy night air. The lot was darkening, the sun faded away almost completely. It was harder to see things unaided by the broken flood light in the corner of the lot. A bright light above them blinked on, flickering a few times, followed by a monotonous buzz. Kaoife screwed up her eyes slightly as she tried to adjust to the brightness, passing the remainder of the joint to Lyla then rubbing her eyes. Just then, in the swirling darkness of her closed eyes, Kaoife heard the rumble of an engine making it’s way along the street. Heart skipping, she moved her hands from her eyes and perked up, straightening her back and waiting for the bike to drive up to the clubhouse. For a moment, the headlight blinded her view as it drove past, driving to the end of the line of bikes. With her heart thumping, Kaoife found herself stuck to the bench. Prying herself away, she stood and took a few steps out of the light, trying desperately to see if it was him. The engine cut and the footsteps followed, she saw the small flame of a lighter and then the glow of a cigarette a few meters away. As he got closer, Kaoife saw the outline of his face, thinner than the last time she had seen him, but him nonetheless. With a wide smile growing across her face, she took a few more breathless steps forward, stopping a meter or so in from of him.  
His eyes widened as he stopped in his tracks.  
“K-Kaoife?” He stuttered, mouth falling open slightly. Looking her up and down, he shook his head.  
“Hiya Fil’.” She beamed, overwhelmed to see finally see him. At once, they closed the space between them, holding each other tightly for a brief moment, before Chibs took her by the arms and looked at her.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” He said, exasperated as he began to smile, chuckling quietly in disbelief. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He said, embracing her again.  
“Belfast’s too small for me.” She joked, resting her hands on the sleeves of his leather jacket, when something caught her eye. “What’s this?!” She beamed, looking at the white flash on the breast of his kutte. “VP? You made VP?” She called. He stepped back slightly, adjusting his kutte with a coy smile.  
“Aye,” He said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Just a few weeks ago. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you’re here.” He smiled, putting his arm over her shoulder and heading over to the bench, where Lyla stood, surprised but smiling. “Alright darlin’?” He asked Lyla. “How you feelin’?”  
“Bit better. Kaoife had to re-stitch me but I’m getting there.” She smiled.  
“I heard the transfer arrived today, too.” Chibs said as they began to walk into the clubhouse. With that, a small panic creeped back into Kaoife’s chest.  
“Yeah, I travelled with him. Friend of mine, actually.” She said, heart beating quickly.  
“Aye?” He said, letting his arm fall from her shoulders as they walked inside.  
Entering, Kaoife coughed loudly, trying to grab Ciaran’s attention before anyone else noticed them. He looked up and immediately his face fell. As Juice and Rat clocked him, there was nothing else Kaoife could do but let them get acquainted.  
“Do you want a beer?” She asked Chibs, searching his face for any sign of recognition.  
“Aye, please darlin’.” He said, smoking the rest of his cigarette and crushing it out as he approached the others.  
“I’m going to bed-” Lyla started, but Kaoife cut her of, reaching for her forearm gently.  
“You’re going to want to see this.” She said carefully.  
“Wha-”  
“This is Ciaran.” Juice said, nodding towards the taller man. Taking deep breaths, Ciaran kept his stance strong.  
“Nice to meet you, brother.” Chibs said, taking his hand and firmly shaking it, before leaning in and patting his back.  
“You too - brother.” He said.  
“Belfast boy?” Chibs asked, taking a seat now. The others followed suit.  
“Grew up in Dublin, moved to Belfast a few years back.” Ciaran replied, leaning back steadily.  
“Dublin?” He quizzed. “What’s your second name?” There was a pregnant pause. Kaoife approached the table, sitting fresh beer in front of them, looking around furtively, then to Ciaran, nodding.  
“Actually -” He began with shaking breath. “My name is Ciaran Telford.” The silence of the clubhouse was deafening. “And you’re my dad.”

 

The doors to the meeting room had been closed for almost two hours. The initial shock had yet to fade as Kaoife lit up another cigarette. Juice, Rat and Lyla sat quietly at the table, still in shock.  
“How do you think it’s going?” Rat piped up, not looking up from the empty beer bottle in his hands.  
“I’d say pretty well.” Kaoife admitted. “There’s been no screaming.” To this, Lyla gave a small laugh.  
“They’ve been in there a while.” Juice said. “Should we check on them?”  
“They’ll be fine. Give them their time.” Kaoife advised.  
“I just - he has a son.” said Rat, uncomfortably.  
“He has a daughter, too.” Juice said.  
“Aye, but he knew about her.” Kaoife interjected. At that moment, the meeting room doors opened. Chibs stood in the doorway for a second, looking into Kaoife’s eyes, before making his way to the bar. Ciaran exited the room, approaching the table.  
“I’m going to head home.” He said blankly, blinking a few times. His eyes were red. “Are you coming?” He asked her.  
“I want to talk to her.” Chibs called from the bar, not once looking away from the small glass in his hands, which he almost filled with whisky. Kaoife’s stomach dropped at his words and she took a deep breath, cursing inwardly. “I’ll give you a ride home later.” He added.  
“Right,” Kaoife nodded. “Thanks.”  
“I’ll see you at the house.” Ciaran said, colour drained from his face. “Nice to meet you boys. See you later, darlin’.” He said to the others, before looking to the bar, where Chibs sat with his back to them. “See you in the morning.” He said to his back.  
“Be here early.” Chibs said pointedly, then took another mouthful. Ciaran made his way out of the clubhouse, leaving it in silence.  
Sitting in the meeting room, Kaoife felt more than uncomfortable standing in the corner of the room, watching Chibs as he closed the doors over. Her eyes met his as he turned to face her. His face was taut with anger, biting into his bottom lip as if to stop himself saying something horrid.  
“Fil’-”  
“No.” He said sternly. “No, you can’t “Fil’” me right now. How long have you known?” He demanded, eyes baring into her own. Tears threatened by stinging her eyelids, scared by his temper.  
“About five years.” She said, looking to the ground as she sniffed heavily, collecting herself then meeting his eyes once again.  
“Five fucking years. You decided to wait and tell me now?” He growled.  
“It wasn’t my choice!” She called, quickly. “I wanted to tell you in Belfast, I did, but it wasn’t right!”  
“Jesus Christ, Kaoife!” He cried, anger flaring as he stepped towards her “Five years! You had plenty of chances other than when I was in Belfast!”  
“I couldn’t exactly tell you over the phone!” She cried, fist tensed.  
“I would have come back.” He said, falling back slightly. “I would have gone back if you’d told me.”  
“And what would I say?” She asked, breathless. “Hi Fil’, your illegitimate child just patched into SAMBEL. Hope the weather’s nice.”   
“Kaoife,” He said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, running a hand over his hair and sighing deeply. “You’re my best friend outside this club. It doesn’t matter what you would have said, just as long as you said something.” He pleaded. Kaoife took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes. Blinking a few times, she looked back at Chibs as he sat at the table. Walking towards him, she kneeled down, taking his hands in hers.  
“I’m sorry, Filip.” She said solemnly. “I missed you, a lot. But this wasn’t up to me.”  
“I know.” He said, voice cracking. “I know, I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I missed you too, kid.” He added, taking one hand from her grasp and positioning it on her head, kissing the top of her head lightly. “On you go, I’ll be out in a minute.” He said, letting go of her.  
Getting to her feet, Kaoife made her way out of the meeting room and back into the bar, where Lyla and Rat sat quietly, watching her carefully. She gave them an eased smile to reassure them, positive that they had heard the previous shouting match.  
“You missed a call.” Rat said, pointing to her phone on the table. Walking over, Kaoife picked it up, flipping it open.  
“It’ll be Ciaran,” She said nonchalantly, calling him. “He probably doesn’t know how to- hello?” She said, focusing on the voice at the other end.  
“Aye, listen -” Ciaran started, his voice frantic. “One of us left the door open.” He explained.  
“What?” She asked quickly. “Who was out last?”  
“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.” He groaned. “Someone’s been in here, the place is a bit of a mess but as far as I can see nothing is missing.”  
“Right,” Kaoife said slowly, pinching her nose and sighing heavily. “So, what do we do?” Phoning the police was out of the question. They had both learned that keeping off their radar was the best solution to any problem.  
“Ask if it’s alright for you to stay at the clubhouse tonight, I’ll stay here and see if they come back.”  
“Right, will I ask anyone to go to the house?” Kaoife offered.  
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you in the morning.”  
“Right, see you.”  
“Bye.”  
As she hung up, Chibs exited the meeting room, walking over to the bar to put his glass in the sink.  
“Everything okay?” He asked.  
“Is, er, is there another room here?” She asked, looking back towards the hallway.  
“Aye, plenty of them.” He said, confused at her question. “Why?”  
“It’s just, someone got into the house.” She sighed. “One of us left the door open this morning.”  
“They take anything?” Chibs asked, focused.  
“No, just made a mess. Ciaran is waiting to see if they come back.” She explained.  
“I see.” He nodded. “He need anyone else?”  
“No, he’s fine.”  
“Right, Lyla will see you to a room. I’m heading home, I’ll see you in the morning.” He said, patting her back lightly before heading for the door of the clubhouse. “Bye!” He called to Rat and Lyla, as Kaoife walked back over to their table. Rat gave a silent wave as Lyla called back.  
“Can someone show me what room I can sleep in? Someone got into the house and made a mess so Ciaran’s staying himself.” Kaoife explained.  
“I’m just going back to bed, I’ll take you.” Lyla offered. “Goodnight.” She said to Rat as she got to her feet.  
“‘Night.” said Kaoife, to which Rat nodded. The girls made their way back to the small apartments, walking past the blue model K once again.  
“In here.” Lyla smiled, after making their way further down the hallway. “There are spare clothes in the drawers. And don’t worry, the sheets are clean.” She laughed. Kaoife smirked and entered the room, set out much like the one Lyla was staying in. Large drawers at either side of the room, windows behind the bed on the diagonal ceiling and a bedside cabinet on each side of the bed.  
“Thanks, I’ll see you in the morning.” Kaoife smiled generously.  
“The guys will probably be here early, and the Crow-eaters. They might wake you with the cleaning.” Lyla explained.  
“You know a lot about this place, I’m assuming you’re an old lady?” Kaoife asked her, looking to her injured hands for any sign of a ring.  
“I was.” She said, with a sad, fallen smile. Kaoife felt the weight in her stomach as she nodded.  
“Sorry.”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Lyla replied softly. “Goodnight.”  
“Night.” Kaoife answered as Lyla shut the door behind her, leaving Kaoife alone too look around the room. Posters and banners flooded the walls, SAMCRO flyers and artwork above the dresser, as well as naked and half-naked busty blondes on bikes dotted around the room.  
Standing by the drawers, she rifled through for a shirt to sleep in, finally finding a soft white shirt with a reaper on the front.  
Changing quickly she folded her clothes and sat them on the dresser neatly, before peeling back the duvet, being sure to double-check the sheets, then climbing into the bed and getting comfortable. The mattress was well used but comfortable and there was a soft glow from a nearby streetlamp streaming in the window. For the first time in countless months, Kaoife found herself falling asleep without struggle. All the anxiety she had felt seemed to be melting away as she lay there, dripping off of the bed and trickling out of the door, leaving her relaxed in the silent room, drowsily taking in the posters and the embellishments, smiling to herself. She had nothing more to worry about - she had now seen Chibs’ reaction to his long-lost illegitimate son. She and Ciaran were beginning to settle in to Charming. She had even made a friend in Lyla. Considering this all, she thought of Belfast. The wet, shining pavements seemed so distant to her, but she didn’t miss them, nor the bleak skies reflected in them. 


	2. Leather, Black and Eyes of Blue.

Leaning carefully over the pool table, Kaoife moved the cue, strategizing her game against Juice, who was tiredly resting his head against his hand, curled over the tip over his cue. The clubhouse was quiet, save for the distant noise of a vacuum and the odd clacking of pool balls snapping against each other as they travelled across the table. Lyla had left early that morning, with her stitches intact and settling, she had decided to do the rest of her healing at home. Once she had left, Juice told Kaoife that she missed her kids, as he had heard her crying in the kitchen when he arrived at the clubhouse. Kaoife now stood straight, watching as Juice lined up his cue, bending over slowly and drawing his arm backwards. Behind her, she could hear the low voices of Chibs and Ciaran, muffled by the walls of the meeting room.

Inside, Chibs and Ciaran sat at the wooden table, Ciaran staring at the carved Reaper in the middle, as Chibs held the pre-pay up to his ear, conversing with Jax on the other end. 

“Right, okay.” He said, as Ciaran ran his fingers over the scythe. “Aye, we’ll be there soon. I’ll tell them, they’ll be here shortly. Right.” He said finally, closing the phone over and sitting it on the table. 

“What did he say?” Ciaran asked, still looking at the Reaper. Chibs took a drag of his lit cigarette, after taking it from the ashtray.

“You patch in tomorrow. We’ve got work to do today.” He explained. “Go tell Juice we’re leaving in ten, tell him to call Rat, get him to come into the clubhouse, we need everyone.” Ciaran nodded, pushing out his chair and getting to his feet. 

In the bar, Kaoife and Juice now sat on stools by the bar, drinking coffee, Kaoife smoking peacefully and looking around the clubhouse. Juice sat quietly on her left, holding the cooling coffee mug between his hands. Kaoife noticed the circles under his eyes grew darker. She had recommended the game of pool in attempt to lift his spirits for a while. It had worked, but his distraction seemed to fade as he began staring at the shelves behind the bar. Sighing quietly, Kaoife sipped her coffee At that moment, two men walked through the door, silhouetted for a moment against the bright morning sun. As they stepped inside, Kaoife saw the first man look at her, confused and stone faced. He was slim but strong, with the stare of a madman. He approached Juice, glancing to her then extending his arm to pat Juices back. It was then that Kaoife looked at the other man. He had taken a seat near her, leaving a gap of two bar stools between them. Kaoife watched as he rubbed two hands over his face, yawning. He had black, curling hair, that rested by his ears, tattooed arms cuffed by leather wrist straps and fingers adorned with old club rings. As he finished yawning, he brought his hands away from his face, revealing his slightly sunken face and strong cheekbones. As he turned his head to look at Juice, she caught his eye as she stared at his marbled blue eyes, caught off guard by their intensity. Quickly looking away, Kaoife crushed out her cigarette and sipped her coffee, feeling he man’s piercing eyes leave her, then land back on her.

“Get me a coffee, Sweetheart.” He mumbled to her, rubbing his face again, then scratching his goatee. Kaoife’s mouth fell open as she stared down at her mug, held halfway from her face. Her mouth grew into a smile as she turned her head to meet him once again.

“‘Scure me?” She laughed. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

“Co-ff-ee.” He said slowly. To this, Kaoife laughed, turning her whole body to face him.

“Judging the fact you walked in easily enough, I’m going to take a wild guess and say your legs are working fine.” She said, straightening her back and staring him out. “Get it yourself.” She noted his lips pursing as he took a deep breath through his nose, clearly aggravated. 

“Tig, she’s-”

“Not one of your skivvies.” Kaoife said, cutting of Juice’s words as he and the other man watched furtively.

“Who the hell are you then?” The man - Tig - asked, eyes narrowing as he spoke.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware it was any of your business.” Kaoife retorted, moving off of the bar stool to get away from the man as his attitude began to infuriate her.

“Stupid gash.” He muttered. Seeing red as her blood reached boiling point, Kaoife turned on her heel and aimed a clenched fist at his face, quickly feeling the force of Juice’s arm grabbing her around the chest and pulling her back. The other man was alert now and on his feet, Tig standing boldly in front of Kaoife with his hands balled into fists by his sides. At this point, the meeting room door opened, Ciaran now standing on the threshold, assessing the situation. He watched Kaoife struggling against Juice’s grip as he held her with both arms now, body jerking as she send an elbow into his ribs.

“Kaoife!” He shouted in confusion. “What the fuck?!” He asked, walking across the room. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Chibs called from the meeting room, then appeared in the doorway.

“Juice, let me go.” Kaoife ordered, prying at his arms.

“Only if you stay off him.” Juice bargained, tensing his arms around her.

“Let her hit me, see what happens next.” Tig sneered.

Hey,” Ciaran warned, approaching Tig and looking down at him. “You touch her, I’ll crush you.”

“Boys!” Chibs bellowed over the squabbling. The brothers met Chibs’ confused glare, Kaoife breaking out of Juice’s arms and adjusting her top. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Misunderstanding.” Juice piped up.

“Yeah,” The man with the shaved head said.

“This headcase just swung for me.” Tig said, sitting back at his bar stool as he narrowed his eyes at Kaoife once again.

“And I’ll do it again if you insult me one more time.”

“Right!” Chibs cried. “Kaoife, go and calm yourself down. Tig, I don’t want to have to warn you - but you won’t touch her.” He explained. Offended, Tig recoiled.

“What? You’re siding with her?” He spat.

“I’m not picking sides.” He said, looking to Kaoife, who was glaring at Tig, arms folded before walking away - meeting Chibs’ eyes and sighing as she passed him. The brothers watched as she walked down the hallway to the apartments. “I’m only warning you because she won’t swing and hit the wall.” Chibs said to Tig, as the others watched carefully. 

“I think I can handle it.” He retorted, leaning an elbow against the bar and running his fingers over his moustache.

“You might be surprised.” Ciaran said, then moved away, lighting up a cigarette.

“She’s crazy, all I did was ask for coffee.” He explained.

“Ah, Tiggy.” Chibs groaned, moving forward to the bar. “She no’ a crow eater.” He groaned. “I thought that was obvious.”

“I kind of guessed that when she tried to punch me.” He replied, shaking his head. Chibs sighed, hands pressed against the edge of the bar. 

“Don’t go anywhere, Jax is going to call in a minute.” He instructed, standing up and taking the pre-pay from the pocket of his kutte and handing it over to Tig, glancing between him and Ciaran. “Play nice, eh?” He asked them, before turning and going through to the apartments. 

 

Kaoife was lying with her back on the mattress, legs hanging over the edge with her feet on the ground, breathing slowly and massaging her scalp with her fingertips. The door clicked open, a small hiss coming from the carpet as the door glided over it.

“Kaoif’,” Chibs sighed.

“He deserved it.” She said plainly.

“Aye,” Chibs laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” 

“Then don’t ‘Kaoif’’ me.”

“He thought you were a crow eater.” He said, moving into the room. Kaoife opened her eyes, sitting up with a sigh.

“I’m not sure you’re helping his case, Fil’.” She said, pulling some fluff from her jeans. Chibs gave a small laugh as he perched himself on the foot of the bed beside her. “I’ll apologise to him later.” She added in a smaller voice.

“Good. Make sure he does, too.” Chibs said. “Tig’s temper is almost as bad as yours.” He added, to which Kaoife laughed.

“You doing okay?” She asked him suddenly, seeing his tired face up close for the first time that day. Taking a deep breath and exhaling quietly, Chibs looked ahead of him.

“I assume you’re referring to last night?” He asked.

“What gave it away?” To this, Chibs laughed.

“We’ll be fine.” He said, looking down to his hands. “There’s still a million questions to ask - but there’s time to ask those later.”

“Just try to adjust to being around each other first.” Kaoife suggested.

“Aye.” He nodded, sniffing loudly. “Listen, I’ve got a feeling we won’t be back ‘til late. Are you staying here again?” He asked.

“Probably.” She stated. “Ciaran’s still trying to catch the folk that broke in. I don’t really want to be there alone, either. I’ll probably be here all day.” She explained.

“Right,” He said, putting his hands to his knees and pushing himself to his feet. “Remember - apologise.”

“Aye, aye.” She sighed. 

“And at least pretend that you mean it.” He added, looking back at her from the doorway.

“Beat it.” She smiled, before he walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

 

Pulling up to the other bikes, Chibs cut the engine. Silence followed as Tig and Ciaran did the same. Looking over at the younger man, Chibs felt his stomach drop in fear again. Aftershocks still washed over him every time he looked, unable to stop glancing, still checking if he was there or if he had imagined the whole thing. With his eyes now focused on the ground, Chibs took the burning cigarette from his mouth and threw it down, crushing it with the sole of his boot. Jax, walking over, extended a hand in greeting.

“Jackie boy.” Chibs said soberly.

“I’m sorry about this guys.” He said, embracing Chibs and patting his back, before letting his arms drop as he moved away, then patting Tig’s upper arm silently. Ciaran straightened his back after resting his helmet on the seat of his bike, waiting for Jax to speak to him. “You must be our transfer.” Jax smiled, his head tilting back as he looked up at him.

“Aye,” He said, holding out a hand. “Ciaran.”

“Jax Teller.” The President responded, clapping his own hand against Ciaran’s and shaking. “We’ll get you patched in as soon as we can, I’m sorry about all this.”

“Ah, away. I didn’t transfer to sit on my arse all day.” Ciaran joked, letting his hand fall between them.

“Jackie,” Chibs called, hands on his hips as he shifted his weight between feet. “Can I have a word?” Jax raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between the two, followed by a quizzical look.

“Sure.” He said, turning from Ciaran and over to Chibs, leaving Ciaran with Tig, Juice and another he learned was called Happy. The atmosphere was tense between Ciaran and Tig, following the events of the morning in the clubhouse. Both Juice and Happy watched them ignore each other, each man glancing angrily at the other without them noticing.

On the other side of the large alley, Chibs was running his fingertips through his goatee, heart in his mouth, pulse audible in his ears. 

“What is it, Fil’?” Jax asked, noting the worried scowl on his VP’s face. With a deep breath, Chibs raised his hands to his hips and slumped slightly.

“Ciaran-” He stopped, thinking over his words. “He came over here looking for me.” He sighed, looking around quickly, feeling uneasy. “He’s my son, Jackie.”

 

The garage lot was busy as the afternoon approached, a few cars arriving now and then for a service as Kaoife watched from the caged play area where she pushed a giggling Abel on the swing. Pushing now with one hand, she raised the other to her brow and looked across the lot as another car entered.

“They won’t be back for a while, Sweetheart.” Said the balding, tired faced old man behind her said. Turning to face him, Kaoife saw the young toddler, Thomas in Unser’s arms, pulling at his shirt collar.

“Hey,” She sang to the child, holding her hands out to receive the child from him. “Yeah,” She said now to Unser. Chibs said they wouldn’t be back until tonight.” She explained, watching as he sat down carefully on the bench, “Don’t know what I keep watching for.” She commented absentmindedly.

“You’re worried.” Unser shrugged, watching her rock Thomas gently on her hip.

“Gemma stopping by?” She asked him, looking to the garage behind him.

“I got no idea, kid.” He said, a small laugh escaping him. “She might drop by, see the boys.” He added, smiling over to Abel almost proudly. Kaoife turned her waist, holding Thomas carefully as she also smiled at the blond boy, swinging happily. “There’s a beer delivery coming in soon, you should go help Chucky.” He advised, watching her gaze around. Kaoife turned to face him once again, confused.

“Chucky?” She asked.

“He’ll be in the bar. You’ll know him when you see him.” He explained, a small chuckle at the end of his words.

“You be okay with the wee guys?” Kaoife asked, bouncing Thomas slightly and earning a small giggle.

“Sure,” Unser perked up, getting to his feet with a barely audible groan.

“Going to see Uncle T?” Kaoife asked Thomas playfully, passing him to Unser carefully. Kaoife took one last look at the boys, then turned to the leave the caged play area. Reaching the gated exit, she stopped, looking over her shoulder to Unser. “You’re right, by the way.” She said, seeing him turn quickly at her words. “I’m worried,” She shrugged. “One thing I can never get used to is the worry - not knowing where they are-” She paused, looking away. “Or who’s coming home.” She finished, meeting his eyes with a sad smile before opening the tall mesh gate and walking into the lot.

Heading over to the clubhouse, Kaoife thought about calling Ciaran, or maybe leaving a text on his pre-pay. She knew that Chibs would be too busy, what with being VP now, he was more than likely being kept on his toes. Her hand subconsciously moved to the back pocket of her jeans, in which she was keeping a small bag holding some buds of weed she had been given by Juice earlier that morning.

Stepping inside the clubhouse, Kaoife looked to the bar, then saw a smaller man in a white shirt, neatly tucked into smart trousers, exiting the kitchen.

“Hey,” She called. “You Chucky?”

“Yeah!” He called enthusiastically, holding out his hand. Kaoife moved to meet it with her own, stopping in shock as she looked down at the shining, plastic fingers.

“Oh, shit.” She smiled in discomfort, but met his hand anyway and shook it. “I’m Kaoife, Unser said you might need a hand with a beer order?”

“Yes, that’d be great! Thank you, Kaoife.” He smiled a happy, toothy grin.

“No problem.” She replied with a barely detectable laugh, as Chucky happily buzzed around her.

 

Standing by a door, Ciaran watched as Jax conversed with a tall Hispanic man, accompanied by a few others. Happy was by Ciaran’s side, Juice in the room behind them with one Darvany Jennings. Chibs and Tig stood behind Jax as they conversed in hushed but pointed tones.

“So, do you and Chibs know each other? From SamBEL?” Happy asked quietly, trying to get some dirt out from under his nail with the tip of his knife. Ciaran gave a small laugh, glancing down to the man’s hands before answering.

“Not quite,” He said, still watching his hands with a raised brow of concern. “It’s a long story, my friend.” He laughed, then looked back to Jax. At that very moment, the front door opened, in walking a dark haired man, his hair scraped back into a long ponytail. Ciaran just caught a glimpse of the man’s scar over his eye before he noticed them all in his kitchen. With this, he jumped and shouted in fright, the man talking to Jax grabbing him and covering his mouth with his palm. By this point the others had jumped to attention, ready to assist in his restraint.

“Arcadio,” The taller Hispanic man called in a loud, yet hushed tone. They continued to converse pointedly until the smaller man was released, everyone - including Ciaran - backing down. He reclaimed his position in front of the door, when it swung open. Jumping back, Ciaran saw the small blond woman run out of the room in a wild panic, followed by Juice. Tig and Chibs tried to grab her but failed as she ran into Arcadio’s arms, crying hysterically and wailing in pain. 

“Shut her up!” Jax cried, pointing to Happy then to the window, indicating to check if the squad car outside heard any of the noise. 

“I got her.” Arcadio piped up, holding the woman in his arms.

“Cops didn’t hear a thing.” Happy informed, carefully moving the curtain back into position. 

“We have to get them out of here, Jackie.” Chibs piped up, running his hand over his hair. With a sigh, Jax nodded.

“She isn’t going to rat.” Arcadio said forcefully. “No problems.”

“It’s for her own good.” Jax replied, Arcadio sighing and walking the blond out of the kitchen. Moving from his post by the door, Ciaran stretched his legs while the others spoke quietly. Hearing footsteps near him, Ciaran glanced back to see Juice coming up by his side, just as he was reaching the end of the hallway.

“Some first day, huh?” Juice laughed sarcastically. To this, Ciaran gave a laugh.

“Aye, it is that.” He said, as they stopped in front of an open doorway. Looking in, they saw the blue walls, toys scattered on the bed, including a small teddy bear. With a sinking feeling, Ciaran shut his eyes, the breath stolen from him as he crossed his chest. Standing silently beside him, Juice lowered his head.

 

Watching Chucky roll in the last silver barrel, Kaoife stood clearing out the pipes into a large pint glass filling quickly with foam from the new barrel she had just hooked up.

“You’ve done that before.” Chucky said with a smile as he rested the barrel under the bar. 

“Aye,” Kaoife laughed, “I used to help out in Belfast a lot. The guys somehow preferred a pint pulled by a woman,” Kaoife drawled mockingly, rolling her eyes at Chucky and laughing.

“Doesn’t sound like a Belfast accent.” He replied, picking up an old cloth and beginning to wipe the bar down.

“That’s because it’s not.” She commented, pulling more foam from the pipes, a small dose beginning to drip from the glass and down her hand. “Scottish. Stayed just outside Glasgow ‘til I was fourteen.” She went on, pouring the foam down the sink. “After that, I stayed in Belfast ‘til I was -” She gave a small laugh. “Well, until four days ago.”

“That where you met Chibs? Belfast?” Chucky asked. 

“Yeah,” She smiled fondly, pulling again until the amber liquid poured out and began to fill the glass. “First friend I ever made there.” She watched the glass fill, then sat it on the bar before holding her hand out to Chucky, who then passed the old cloth with which he had dried his own plastic hands. After hearing the approach of an engine, Kaoife looked up to the monitor behind the bar, seeing a black SUV pulling in and parking across the lot. “Gemma.” She stated, nodding up to the monitor.

“Go ahead,” Chucky instructed. “I got that.” He finished, pointing a shining finger to the clouded pint.

“Thanks.” She replied, laying down the cloth and making her way from the bar. 

Walking outside, she saw Gemma in the middle of the lot, waving to Abel and Thomas in the play area.

“Gemma!” Kaoife called, holding one hand above her brow to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Hey Sweetheart, what’s up?” She asked Kaoife as she removed her sunglasses.

“You heard from the guys?” Kaoife asked as Gemma linked arms with her, now walking to the office.

“No, Baby.” She began with a sigh. “But I’m pretty sure something’s gone South.” 

“What’s happened?” Kaoife asked with panic in her voice.

“I don’t know.” Gemma said as they approached the blue door. “I’m just here to pick up some shells, then I’ve got to head up to the cabin.” Wordlessly, Kaoife nodded with a heavy sigh. “Hey, it’ll be fine.” Gemma said, rubbing Kaoife’s arm.

“I know.” She nodded, aware that she was too far in her own head. “Is Chibs at the cabin?”

“Should be, Sweetie, why?” Gemma asked, then watched Kaoife’s face change. They remained in silence for a few seconds before Gemma urged her to speak.

“It’s not for me to say,” Kaoife sighed, sitting on the small office couch with her head in her hands.

“You’re worrying me, Sweetheart.” With a final sigh, Kaoife looked up at her.

“I’m worrying myself,” She laughed, followed by a deep sigh. “After you left last night, when Chibs arrived - he introduced himself to Ciaran.”

“What, they got history?” Gemma asked.

“Well, yes and no.” 

“Well what then?” She asked, hands on her hips as she looked down at Kaoife. “You’re killing me here, Sweetie.” 

“He’s Chibs’ son.” She blurted out, finger tips touching her lips subconsciously.“I wanted to tell Chibs’ when you guys came over, but I couldn’t. He was so angry because I hadn’t told him, which I understand, but I don’t want him taking it out on Ciaran.” She said, leaning back on the couch. “He’s wanted to know his dad for so long, I need to know that I haven’t spoiled it.”

“Oh, honey.” Gemma said, sitting by her side and laying an arm around her, as Kaoife’s face fell sadly. “It’ll be fine,” She said reassuringly. “It’ll take him a while but you know Fil’, he just needs to process it. It’s a big shock.”

“I know, I know. It’s just - “ She sighed. “With the move, Fil’, the new charter, you know - I almost started fighting with the curly one, what’s his name again?”

“Tig?” Gemma asked.

“Yeah, him.” She laughed, still slightly embarrassed. “He just said the wrong thing and I kind of snapped.”

“Yeah, Tig’s got a habit of doing that.” She said with a slight smile. “Knowing Tig, it’s no excuse for whatever he said - but he’s going through some shit right now. I mean some heavy shit.”

Looking to her hands as she tapped her nails, Kaoife nodded.

“Got it.” She said, a sinking, guilty feeling in her stomach. “Thanks for letting me know.” She said appreciatively, still looking at her hands and feeling even worse.

“I gotta go,” Gemma said, getting to her feet, holding the box of shells in her hand. “I’ll get Chibs to call when he can.” Kaoife met her eyes again.

“Thanks, Gem.” 

“See ya, Sweetheart.” Gemma said with a half-smile, leaving with the shells in one hand and purse clutched in the other. Leaning back against the couch again, Kaoife rubbed her palm over her forehead, hearing Gemma’s boots on the ground outside the office, along with the faint laughter of Abel and Thomas. 

 

Outside the cabin door, Ciaran stood tense with his face fallen as he looked over the scene in front of him. Arcadio’s body lay limp by the door of the black SUV, a pool of blood surrounding him as his brothers wrestled with Darvany to move her inside the cabin. Jax and Gemma relieved their cover behind the truck to see the mess ahead of them.

With a long shaky but silent breath, Ciaran saw Chibs run a hand over his hanging hair, pushing it back in a sigh of frustration a few steps ahead of him. Nero stood some distance from Ciaran, but he could still hear his strained voice as he choked back the tears from losing his cousin.

“Get her inside.” Jax ordered, anger in his voice, before he checked his mother was safe.

“Set up the room.” Tig said quietly to Ciaran and Juice who stood sentinel beside him appearing almost blind to the violence with his stone face. 

“Aye.” Ciaran replied, casting one last look to the bloody, almost frantic scene as he turned to follow Juice inside.

 

As the sun fell low, Kaoife walked into the clubhouse, looking around the bar to find it empty. There was an almost lingering silence, save for the quiet music behind the bar and Kaoife grew uneasy, thinking quickly of something to keep her busy. It was then that she caught sight of the wall of mug shots, her eye immediately catching that of Chibs’ as his picture hung high. A small smirk on her lips, she moved closer. Upon further inspection, she saw all the familiar faces; Chibs, Jax, Tig - whose name, she noted, was actually Alexander, Happy and another that she recognised. Harry ‘Opie’ Winston.

 

The party was in full swing, the cold Belfast night masked by the heat of the fires burning around the small lot. Bodies filled the area, men boxing in the firelight as their brothers cheered for them gleefully, throwing beer high in the air as one landed a crack to the other’s bare chest.

Kaoife sat atop the bench, watching Trinity staring at the blonde American as he fought in the middle of the large crowd. As she focused on the crowd, Kaoife saw a tall, bearded man she didn’t recognise, egging on his blonde brother.

As the blonde disappeared inside with Father Ashby, Kaoife caught the eye of the tall man, his hair pulled back behind his head as he walked with Chibs and another. Thinking quickly, she grabbed three beers from the crate by her side on the bench and got to her feet, carrying them to the group of men.

“Fil’,” She beamed, still ecstatic to see her friend again.

“Ah! Y’alright darlin’?” He asked gleefully,stepping towards her and throwing an arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards him and holding her tight.

“Aye, I’m good.” She smiled with a small laugh. “Brought you some more beers.” She said, handing one of the bottles to him.

“Ah, see? This is what I’ve missed the most!”

“Me?” She asked jokingly.

“No, your table service.” He laughed, letting her go and screwing the cap off of the beer.

“Cheeky bastard.” She laughed. “Here.” She said, handing a beer to the other man, then the last to the tall, bearded one, ensuring to make eye contact and lingering for a few moments. Their short stare was broken by Chibs’ gruff cough.

“Come on, pal. We need to be over there somewhere.” He said in an amused tone, sending an elbow into his tall brother’s side jokingly. As they walked on, Filip winked to Kaoife as he passed, to which she only smirked, looking down at her feet, before meeting the eyes once again of the taller Son.

 

“Fucking hell,” Ciaran muttered, looking down for a moment then meeting the eyes of his father.

“I know, get the bodies to the truck, Juice’ll help you.” Chibs replied in a defeated tone, clapping a gently hand onto Ciaran’s arm as he turned away, returning to Jax and Nero.

Sliding the tarp into the back of the van, Ciaran worked through the poisonous feeling in his stomach. For the second time that day, he thought of the fact he had only arrived in the country four days ago, yet he was now dealing with two bodies of the people he had been talking to hours before. Burying the thought as deep as he could for the time being, he turned to Juice.

“How do we deal with these now?” He asked.

“I don’t know. We usually go to Chigger Woods, but recently it’s becoming more like Chigger Cemetery.” Juice replied in a bland, monotone voice as he looked to the tarp with acid in his eyes.

“Jesus Christ.” Ciaran sighed. 

“We’ll take them to Skeeter’s. He’ll burn ‘em.” To this, Ciaran could only nod.

 

On the couch by the pool table, Kaoife was smoking quietly in the empty clubhouse, using her rucksack as a pillow. Chucky had left an hour ago, Unser was residing in the airstream outside. Her stomach was knotted as she hadn’t heard from anyone all day, all she knew was what Gemma had told her. Letting her head fall backwards gently, she sighed heavily, closing her eyes and trying to relax her headache as she listened out for the engines.

It was almost midnight before she heard them, like a bubbling thunder as they drove in the gate. The noise woke her, not from sleep but from a relaxed stupor. The headache returned as she opened her eyes, bright, low-hanging lights almost blinding her as she moved to a sitting position. Rubbing her eyes, and yawning, she moved the ashtray to the edge of the pool table and got to her feet, grabbing her cigarettes from the arm of the couch before moving to a table near the bar and taking a seat. Rat entered silently, acknowledging Kaoife politely then walking over to the far corner of the bar. Ciaran was behind him, walking towards Kaoife with a tired, slightly sunken face. He sat down in silence, which worried Kaoife. Chibs wasn’t far behind him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it haphazardly.

“A’right darlin’.” He sighed, a cloud of smoke evaporating into the air.

“Well?” She asked, looking to them both, then clocking Tig as he meandered behind them carefully, sitting a table away from them.

“You’ve been sitting here all day worrying, haven’t you?” Ciaran piped up, rubbing his tired but amused face and pulling Kaoife’s attention back to them.

“What do you think?” She replied.

“Everything’s fine, Kaoif’.” Chibs recited.

“Aye, I’ll believe that.” She laughed, calming now that she saw they were okay. “I’m staying here again, Ciaran. Found another problem with the bike, I’m working on it in the morning.”

“Right, cool.” He nodded. “I’m just going to head home anyway, just thought you’d like to see I was alive.” He joked.

“I’ll get someone to stay the night, so you’re not here yourself.” Chibs said, holding in a lung of smoke, before exhaling deeply. “I would, but I’ve got something to sort out at the house.”

“Aye, don’t worry about it.” She agreed, then got to her feet. “I’m going to take my stuff through to the room, see you in the morning.” She said to her friends, smiling as she saw Chibs standing closely behind Ciaran, hand leaning on the back of his chair. Ciaran gave a small wave as she grabbed her rucksack from the couch and slung it over her shoulder, making her way to the apartments.

As she walked in through the door, Kaoife tossed her half-filled rucksack to the bed, watching it fall to the floor, then sighed as she walked to pick it up again. Grabbing the arm strap and sitting on the bed, Kaoife pulled it up by her side and rested her forearms on her thighs, thinking. Yet to apologise to Tig, she thought of the best time to do it. She would have to wait until the others had left or were out of the room, as there was no chance of her making the apology public, along with the fact she didn’t want to apologise at all. In her opinion, he had deserved the potential punch in the mouth, for the disrespect. Kaoife felt herself getting riled again, so stood up and began pacing to calm herself. Perhaps she did go too far, though. She would be lying if she said her temper didn’t get the better of her. He did egg her on, though. Let her hit me, see what happens next. She would have shown him. She would have tried, anyway. At the end of the day, she was five feet and four inches of temper with only a lucky first punch on her side. As fiery as her temper was, she wasn’t a very skilled fighter. Able to throw a punch, then maybe dodge the backlash. Groaning quietly, Kaoife stopped pacing and took a seat at the foot of the bed. There was nothing for her to do except apologise and get over it, she realised, as she tapped her nails together. Looking behind her at the bedside table, she checked the time on the digital clock, afterwards getting to her feet and leaving the room with a defeated sigh.

Walking down the corridor, she noted the empty clubhouse, save for Tig sitting alone at the same table as when Kaoife left. She stopped in the threshold for a moment, lingering to watch him and make up her mind. His head turned to her and he watched her carefully. Lifting her head haughtily, Kaoife moved from the corridor and walked in behind the bar. Not saying a word, she took two beers from the fridge below and opened them, the only noises being the small rush of gas, followed by the tinkling of the beer caps on the wooden bartop. Feeling his eyes on her, she took a bottle in each hand and walked along the bar, exiting the other side and walking to where he sat. Looking directly into his eyes, she sat a bottle on the table in front of him, then stepped to the free chair across from him, taking a seat and sipping the beer.

Tig eyed the bottle, then eyed her, before stretching a hand and picking it up, bringing it to his lips, pursing them at the taste.

“Thank you.” He said boldly, looking down at the bottle as he rested it on the table.

“You’re welcome.” Kaoife replied, pulling her cigarettes from her pocket and sitting the packet on the table, then reaching into her back pocket and pulling out the small bag of ground up buds and paper skins. “Chibs told me to apologise.” She said plainly, pulling out some skins. “For this morning.” To this, Tig laughed. “I know right?” She asked him, finally making eye contact. “You were a dick.” She laughed, dragging the edge of a skin along her tongue.

“I only asked you to get me coffee.” He said commonly.

“You also insulted me.”

“After you insulted me.” Tig defended himself, turning to face her fully. “Look, sweetheart, we could do this all night - it ain’t going to solve anything.” He said, shaking his head. Snapping the filter from a cigarette, Kaoife sighed, nodding.

“Aye, I know. I’ve got a feeling we’re both a bit too stubborn.” She rolled the filter a few inches across the table, staring at it for a moment. “I don’t know what I was aiming to achieve with throwing that punch, though.” She laughed. “It probably would have hit you like water.” She added, to which Tig chuckled, lifting his beer and taking a drink.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda glad Juice grabbed you.” He laughed, sitting the bottle back onto the table. “Tell me this,” He began, running his thumb and forefinger over his moustache and down his chin. “Why was Chibs so pissed at me for threatening you?” He asked, leaning back on his chair, leaving one hand rested on the table.

“Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was a total dick move?” Kaoife suggested, rolling the joint and dragging the edge of the skin along her tongue to seal it.

“No, come on. I’m not stupid, asides from the accent, it’s obvious you guys have history.”

Nodding, Kaoife rolled the tip of the joint between her fingers, then held it out in offering to Tig. He seemed surprised at first, taking it from her carefully. “Thanks.” He said, his face softening as he brought out a lighter.

“I met Chibs when I moved to Belfast to live with my dad, we’ve been close ever since.” She summarised.

“I see,” He nodded, taking a drag from the joint and holding it in for a moment. “Was your dad IRA?” He exhaled. Kaoife gave a small laugh, beginning to roll another for herself but stopping to look up at Tig.

“Did he not tell you?” She asked, noting his blank stare. “I’m Kaoife McGee.” She smiled. “I’m Keith McGee’s daughter.” She saw his eyes widen slightly as he took another drag.

“Oh, shit. Right.” Tig nodded, giving an awkward laugh. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” She laughed at his reaction.

“I’m sorry about what-”

“Don’t.” She said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s fine.” She had stopped laughing, again beginning to roll a joint for herself. They sat quietly for a moment or so, before Kaoife found her mind wandering and decided to force conversation. “I don’t remember seeing you in Belfast.” She said, looking at the ripped filter between her fingers.

“I stayed here.” He said, watching her. “Held the fort.”

“I see.” Kaoife commented. “Well, I’ll admit - we’d had quieter weeks.” She laughed, Tig smirking. “I was meaning to ask,” She began. “Did Chibs get someone to stay the night?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” He laughed. Looking over at him, Kaoife stopped rolling the tobacco into the skin.

“He asked you?” She asked. Tig bowed his head in reply, taking a sip from his beer. “Good thing we sorted everything out then, isn’t it?” Kaoife laughed.

“Yeah.” He smirked, taking a long drag. “Must be quite a change,” He said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Coming to Redwood from Belfast.” Lighting the tip of the joint carefully, Kaoife made a noise of agreement, then blew out a small cloud.

“I’m still getting used to the sun.” She smiled in amusement.

“Really?” Tig asked, unbelieving. “Is it really as dull as Chibs says it is?”

“Duller.” Kaoife laughed. “We get about four hours of sun a year.” She took a drag, picking up her beer. “Well, that’s a wee bit of an exaggeration, but it’s honestly that dull. As is Scotland.”

“I’m guessing you lived there before Belfast?” He asked.

“Yep, ‘til I was fourteen.” She stated proudly. “What about you? You always been a Charming man?” She joked. Laughing, he replied.

“Yeah,” He nodded, smiling down at his hands as he tore small pieces from the label of the bottle. “I’m a Charming Native,” He laughed. “Did a stint in the Marines, then came home to Charming and patched into SAMCRO.”

“You were a marine?” She asked, surprised.

“I’m flattered that you’re so shocked.” He joked. “Yeah, five years.”

“Damn.” She said, impressed. “That’s some serious shit.”

“Yeah,” He laughed. “It was. It’s got nothing on SAMCRO, though.”

“I have no difficulty in believing that, if today is anything to go by.” She said, taking the last few drags of her joint. Tig let out a heaving sigh.

“Yeah, today was something.” He agreed, looking away from her, trying to find something in the clubhouse to focus on.

“Is everything okay?” She asked suddenly, having no real information about the day’s events.

“It’s fine, Sweetheart.” Tig said absently.

“See, everyone’s saying that. I’ve got a feeling it might be a lie.” She retorted.

Tig sighed, looking back at her and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

“The other day, there was a shooting at the Catholic school. A kid used one of our KG-9’s to wipe out his classmates and his teacher.” He explained slowly, playing with the rings on his fingers. Kaoife took a deep breath, straightening her back and pausing.

“Shit,” She breathed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Our KG-9’s.” She said, referring to the Belfast operations.

“Yeah.” Tig sighed slowly, watching Kaoife crush out her joint and take a large drink from the bottle in front of her.

“Fuck.” She muttered in shame.

“It’s not on you, Kaoife.” He said solemnly. She smiled, giving a breathy, unbelieving laugh at how much his attitude had changed, as well as her own. Truthfully, there was now a great weight in her chest. Was it a gun she loaded onto the freighter before she and Ciaran left Belfast? Was she an accessory in this? She remembered standing on the freighter, checking over the stock as the other shoremen stored them away safely. It was standard procedure, she had done it more times than she could count. However, seeing people deal with the damage suddenly made it all real.

“Hey, how about a game of pool?” Tig suggested suddenly, having been watching her stare off into the corner of the room with glazed, scared eyes.

“Sure.” Kaoife said, absently nodding.

“Can you set up, though? I gotta go hit the head.” He asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” She said, her mind coming back to the present. Blinking a few times, she returned to the conversation. “I’ve never understood that expression.” She commented, eyebrows furrowed as she thought about it. “I just don’t get it.”

“I’ll explain after.” Tig said, pushing against the table with his palms and getting to his feet.

Standing by the table, Kaoife walked to the pool table, grabbed the cues and then held them in her hands, watching Tig as he disappeared down the corridor, the white Reaper fading from view into the darkness.

 

In the midst of their game, Kaoife and Tig walked back and forth around the table, which was decorated with a few empty bottles and an ashtray at each end. As Tig lined up his shot, leaning forward with the table at eye-level, the generic rock playing behind the bar was all that could be heard as Kaoife watched him play, hoping for him to miss as she was losing drastically. As the balls clicked forcefully against each other, followed by the sound of one working it’s way down through the table, Kaoife sighed and rolled the joint in her hand between her fingers, before taking a long drag.

“You’re an arsehole.” She said, not looking away from the table as Tig straightened up and walked over to her. Holding it out to him, she exhaled and he accepted, tapping the stalk lightly with his forefinger, the ash falling into the ashtray by Kaoife’s hand.

“And you’re shit at pool.” He replied, taking the last drag of the joint, crushing it out afterwards, then leaning his side against Kaoife’s, pushing her gently out the way.

“Arsehole.” She said in a joking but unbelieving voice. Watching him bend down over the table, she noticed his shirt sleeve slide up, revealing more of his Reaper tattoo.

A few moments passed before she she realised she was staring, as the sound of his shot brought her back.

“Damn it.” Tig muttered, straightening his back with a sigh.

“Like it’s going to make any difference.” Kaoife laughed, looking at the abundance of balls she had yet to pot, in comparison to Tig’s one, along with the black. Raising her cue, she leaned over the table, Tig still by her side as she lined up. With a smile to herself, she pushed her hip to the side, moving him away from her. As he shuffled to the side, Tig curled his tongue behind his teeth, fighting the threatening smirk.

She focused on the yellow in her sight as it rolled across the table, failing to make it all the way to the corner pocket. With a sigh, Kaoife raised up and turned to move back and allow Tig to take his shot, unexpectedly finding him to be watching her. Meeting his eyes silently, she shuffled slightly on her feet, trying to give him space to play. However, when he stayed in place, still staring, she stopped as she recognised the slight darkness in his eyes. “It’s your turn.” She said in a low voice, the space between them slowly closing.

“I know.” He replied, eyes flickering to her lips then back to her eyes. With that, a familiar fire lit in her chest. Bringing herself to her full height, she watched Tig as he leaned forward slightly, mirroring his actions. As their lips met, her hand found his face, feeling the stubble on his cheek as his beard scratched her chin. With a loud snap, Tig’s cue hit the wooden floor, followed by Kaoife’s as he grabbed her waist with both hands, pushing her back onto the pool table. Kaoife’s hands pushed through his hair as he move his own to her thighs, lifting her so that she now perched on the edge of the pool table. However, as she rested on the edge, she moved her hands to his chest, pulling away.

“Hold on,” She said, trying to focus her mind as she opened her eyes to see his confused look, his heavy breaths matching her racing heartbeat. “I have a policy about not having sex on a grubby, beerstained pool table.” To this, Tig gave a relieved smirk, stepping away as she slid off the edge of the table, her boots making a small thud as she grabbed Tig’s hand, pulling him with her as she headed across the clubhouse to the hallway.

Kaoife dropped his hand as they approached the apartments, stopping at the door of the room she had been staying in. Before she could touch the handle, she felt Tig’s grasp on her hips, turning her quickly and pushing her back onto the door with a slight force. With one more dark look, their lips met again. With one hand curling under Tig’s collar, Kaoife tugged gently as her other hand grasped the door handle and twisted it, Tig’s force on her pushing it open and causing them to disappear in the darkness of the room, before - with a kick, the door closed behind them.


End file.
